


Danganronpa: Reloaded

by nugatories



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Fan Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Gen, LGBTQ Character, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Trans Character, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nugatories/pseuds/nugatories
Summary: After the fall of the Remnants of Despair and the broadcasting of Ryota Mitarai’s Hope Video, Hope’s Peak Academy has been rebuilt by the killing game survivor and Ultimate Hope, Makoto Naegi, in order to continue educating the world’s finest while preventing any more infiltrations of despair. However, balance must be maintained, as the incoming 21st class of the new Hope’s Peak will soon discover that there cannot be an abundance of hope without despair.[Continuation off of Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak High School.]





	Danganronpa: Reloaded

**Author's Note:**

> hello  
> once upon a time i made too many danganronpa ocs and had nothing to do with them so here they are.  
> sorry for never finishing my other multi-chaptered works i am..indecisive..

I, for the life of me, could not tell you why people decided to rebuild this godforsaken school.

Long ago, this big event happened, so inconspicuously titled “The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History”, or just “The Tragedy”, if you don’t have a lot of time. It was an era of social unrest followed by a breakthrough of despairing, violent, and heartless incidents including, but not limited to, vandalism, destruction, theft, arson, murder, and genocide. All because of some teenage girl and her desire to bring the world into ruin and misery.

Before, during, and even following her death were several events broadcasted worldwide known as “killing games”. These games took the students of the former, old Hope’s Peak Academy and pitted them against one another for the sake of entertainment, à la _Battle Royale_. Motives were handed out, people died, secrets were revealed, and it was all because of this sickening, amoral girl and her despair fetish.

Yet, all this happened years ago, before I was even born. The new Hope’s Peak Academy, founded by one of the survivors of the killing games, is where I have been invited to attend high school. I was reluctant to accept due to the school’s grim history, but considering how well it has been doing and how Japan has been rebuilding itself from The Tragedy successfully and encouragement from my parents, I reconsidered the elusive opportunity and took my chances.

I was born and raised in the heart of Tokyo, and I’ve never really left the city. My parents were both businesspeople; rungs in a corporate ladder. My aspirations were nothing short of where they were, truly. I wouldn’t mind working a nine-to-five job, coming home to a small apartment to my spouse and a kid or two, and then repeating that cycle until I retire someday. It’s a simple life, but it’s easy living, and I’m not really the adventurous type.

The new Hope’s Peak sought me out to be in their twenty-first class, enrolled as the Ultimate Honor Student. I take pride in that title. I’ve been first in my class as long as I’ve known and my grades never drop below an A, no matter how difficult the subject matter may be. I don’t love school, but I don’t loathe it either. It’s just how life works for a teenager such as myself. If I’m going to be good at something, it might as well be one of the most crucial life experiences everybody goes through, right?

My name is Raiden Suzumoto. I’m fifteen years old, and I’m one of the smartest people I know. I have my father’s deep blue eyes (and poor vision, thus my glasses) and my mother’s autumnal brown hair. For someone who spends a majority of his time studying and researching, I know I take good care of my appearance. I’m clean-cut; I’m dapper, if you will. I dress to the nines. I may look pretentious or nerdy, but truthfully, I just care plenty about my academic and future success. I’m really not that charismatic of a human being otherwise.

So, there I was. Humbly standing before arguably the most prolific and influential high school on the planet, rebuilt, reloaded, and ready for its twenty-first class. I walked through the open gates, broad, metal, and strangely inviting, only to feel a sharp prick of pain in the back of my neck. I gasped, before sinking to my knees and wailing--at least I think I was making noise--until I collapsed entirely and lost consciousness.

Then I jolted awake.

I shot up, my palms moist, but pressed against a cold, solid floor.I was drenched in sweat from my forehead to my underarms to my hands. Though visibly dizzy, I pushed myself off a nearby wall to my feet, slowly regaining my balance. I touched the back of my neck and felt a small bump, like where a bruise may have formed. I audibly groaned. My neck ached to touch, even in the smallest way.

The room was completely empty, save for me and a few desks and chairs scattered haphazardly. A whiteboard, blank except for old marker stains long wiped off resided in front of the congregation of high school desks. There looked as if there were supposed to be windows into this room, but instead, in their place, were large metallic sheets bolted into place. The only light in the room came from dangling fixtures, long and rectangular in design, hanging by thin ropes of steel, perhaps?

After taking brief notice of my surroundings, I regained my senses as wholly as I could manage. Thoughts of danger kept running through my mind, recalling back to those many lessons of the killing games and how they began. Crime rates have severely dropped within the past decade or so, but kidnapping, maybe? Am I being held for ransom? Why am I in a school setting?

Alas, there it was. Perched atop the door, the only exit and entrance to this suddenly claustrophobic room, was the emblem that also embossed the lovely letter I got in the mail several months ago telling me to attend that bittersweet school meant to hold my calloused hand until I prosper after high school.

I held my stomach and doubled over, dry-heaving and gagging. Unconsciously, my eyes watered up. It was as if my one fear about attending this school manifested. For twenty years this school was fine, so why would it be my year? Maybe this is just some test of sorts. Some awareness thing meant to bring light to the awful events from years past. That had to be it.

I pulled myself together in my strongest attempt to appear composed and collected. I breathed in and out, in and out, in and out. Sometime, I’d have to walk out of this room and face the music. Better now than never.

My hand touched the door handle. Though my fingers shook, I quivered the door open, maybe via force of will alone. The hallway following was alit with a dim, dark coat of red. It made me feel anxious automatically. The color red has always been so bothersome. It’s a sign of love and passion, but I will never see it as more than a color of failure and powerlessness.

Following the red hall down in one direction, I passed several other identical-looking rooms, with signs beside them detailing what resided inside. “Classroom 1-A”, “A/V Room”, “Library”, and “Greenhouse” were just a few of the ones I passed by. At the very end of the hallway, with the red hue still prevalent, was a pair of doors, wooden yet broad. My gut was telling me to look beyond, to open the door. Like this simulation would end if I opened the door. I’d find the headmaster onstage, with my peers sitting down, and he’d explain that this is an initiation of sorts for new students, perhaps, to show what it was like to wake up and have to kill in a strange, foreign location. That’s what I wanted to see.

But those doors did not lead me to a place of relief. There was no middle-aged man on stage with a microphone telling me that it’s all going to be okay. There was just a group of eccentric-looking teenagers, about my age, sitting around in utter silence, staring me down as I walked in.

“The roster said sixteen people per class. This slowpoke must be the last one of us,” chimed somebody I could not see.

“Bullshit!” replied someone else with loud, powerful voice, “I’m older than most of you! How the hell am I in the same class?”

“It is not determined based on age, dimwit, it is based off intellect. Maybe you should learn a thing or two if you want to graduate high school,” said a slender, short boy close to me with slicked, white hair. He had a strange accent, and did not look remotely Japanese. His arms were crossed. He caught me staring before barking at me, “What do you want?”

It took everything in me not to break down in front of all these people and cry.

“Is this some kind of prank? You guys realize how similar this is to…”

“Yeah, we know, genius. Don’t think you’re special for being the only one who’s worried.”

Everyone started talking all at once, yelling at one another and arguing for a short while. I was panicking, but I didn’t want to leave the room--a gymnasium with a small stage for presentations, or perhaps to double as an auditorium. I’d be alone out there. But I didn’t want to be in this. My education, for once, has failed me with too much knowledge.

I think I’ve gone through every stage of grief at least twice by now.

But we all were cut off by a fizzy white noise emitting from the loudspeakers. We looked around like startled animals, searching for a source.

Then, as if on cue, the curtains to the stage rose to reveal a man, older in age, bent over and sobbing loudly. He was tied to a folding chair, his legs apart but his arms behind him and bound to the chair.

“I’m sorry!” He wailed, thrashing against the hold of the rope. He lifted his head, his brown, short hair barely masking those recognizable green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” The man repeated, “I thought we’d make it work, I thought we’d succeed, but…”

Two armed men with thick, black vests and helmets masking their eyes walked out from either side, each holding a kind of gun I had never seen before. It looked complex and very powerful; it reminded me of the guns I’ve seen in old war movies.

The guns were pointed towards the man. One of the guards mumbled something to the man, who ceased his crying and started making eye contact with us down below.

“Good morning students,” He shakily spoke, trying not to look at the guards, “I regret to inform you that this year won’t be exactly what you expected of the new Hope’s Peak. Or rather, if you’re the skeptical type, it will be exactly what you thought. I am your headmaster and school founder, Makoto Naegi, and I am being forced to make a terrible, terrible announcement to you all.”

I didn’t even notice the presence of girl beside me, one almost my height with sleek purple hair tied into a bun atop her head. She grabbed my hand, but did not break eye contact with the headmaster. It almost made me think her actions were subconscious. It felt good to feel contact, though. I analyzed her light brown eyes, tan skin, and peculiar outfit further. Who was she?

“I founded this school with the dream that we can fuel the most talented, brightest children of tomorrow in one place. But unfortunately, dreams cannot be fulfilled forever. Although the concept that someone may try to take over the school and attempt what Junko Enoshima did many years ago did lurk as a possibility, but I figured myself to be so cautious with scouting and be very open about school projects and experiments, unlike the former Hope’s Peak Academy, that the idea of another takeover was impossible. However, it seems I have been bested. I do not know who is behind this, but their underlings that you see here beside me with the weapons have informed me that their boss requests the twenty-first class, the incoming class, of the new Hope’s Peak Academy, under my control, be forced to participate in the killing games that my very own former, deceased classmate made so popular long ago.”

I didn’t hear a single person gasp or shudder or anything. It was as if we collectively expected this. The girl beside me was visibly shaking, but her face was stoic, as if it were stone.

“I-I’m...so sorry. I have no option. It is not just because my life, and the lives of my loved ones, are at stake--I am not that selfish. But it is merely that if I do not initiate and permit the existence of this game for your class, you all will be killed collectively. I would rather take the chance you all live and cooperate together and coexist peacefully than know sixteen of my students were massacred and I could have prevented it,” the headmaster began to sob once more. My heart and chest ached watching him. He seemed like such a kind man, but part of me couldn’t help but wonder how he got into this scenario. That part of me was upset for allowing myself to be pressured into going to this school when this was my one and only fear.

The headmaster eventually looked between the guards, and then back to the rest of us standing on the gymnasium floor. “I will be following the orders of whoever has taken over this academy. As far as I’m aware, it is only you sixteen, myself, and a few guards roaming these halls. The building has been locked down. I am forbidden from calling for help, and I do not know the whereabouts of any other teachers of administrators of Hope’s Peak. I cannot contact the outside. I vow to put myself before the rest of you as best as I can. I promise, I would never willingly do anything to endanger the lives of my students. I am a k-”

The guard to the right of the headmaster smacked him in the back of his head with the butt of his big gun. He immediately fell unconscious and leaned over in the seat, his bound arms being the only thing propping him upright. The guard on the left walked forward, gun pointed down, and addressed the rest of us in a warped voice.

“Students, I am sure you are aware of the killing games that took place in the former Hope’s Peak. In order to fulfill our boss’ orders, we will be conducting another one alongside that unwilling headmaster of yours, Makoto Naegi. No need to question the reasoning, for even we do not know. We are just following orders, as will the rest of you, or you will be expelled.” The guard then turned his gun out and shot a few bullets over our heads, hitting the gymnasium wall. A few of us cowered or shrieked and ducked. The girl next to me was no exception, and she released her grasp on my hand and ducked down without a sound.

The guard continued speaking as if nothing happened. “I’m sure you all know the details, but we will provide some rules for you all anyway. Firstly, and most simply, you all are trapped inside this school. There is no means to contact the outside, nor is it possible to leave. Any attempts to do so will result in expulsion. Secondly, the only means of leaving is to kill one of your fellow classmates and get away with it. After a death, an investigation, followed by a trial, will be conducted. The innocent must try to seek out the killer, but if the killer successfully gets away with it, they will go free and leave this school, while everyone else dies. If the killer is captured, only they will die, and the game will continue until someone either gets away with murder, or you all weed yourselves out. The rest of these very easy to follow rules will be on your PurgePads. They are small electronic devices in each of your respective dorms.”

_PurgePads_?! That’s a really idiotic name. Who the hell names this crap?

“Once again, don’t question us or our boss or our boss’ motives. We cannot answer. Failure to follow this will result in expulsion as well. Expulsions will be dealt with without trial. If there are no questions, we will proceed with the game and set you all free to roam the first floor of the school.”

Not a single soul raised their hand or even showed signs of curiosity. I gulped, and feared that even that was too loud a noise to break the deafening silence around me and my peers.

“Very well. Good luck, students. Happy killing, and may God be with you all.”

The guard who spoke to us exited stage left, and the other guard followed suit, dragging the chair holding the headmaster’s body behind him. It made a loud, scratchy noise, like nails and a chalkboard.

Once they left, we all kind of just stood there, looking at once another; some faces coated in fear, others blank, and others very upset.

“Alright,” said a voice, stepping forward with his hands outstretched. It was a very, very tall man with fair skin and long, dark hair tied back in a low ponytail. He was dressed very nicely, yet casually at the same time. His eyes were a striking shade of purple-blue, and he had a small bit of stubble coating his chin, like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. “If I must be honest, this scenario did go through my mind when I was invited here. I’ve gone through different ideas and it’s probably just the smartest idea to live it out in here. These folks gotta croak someday, and we’re all pretty young. I’m only seventeen. It sucks, but if we all get along, we’re provided with endless food, housing, and activities. It’s like a prison, but better quality, and a tiny bit more freedom. I can’t complain.”

Jesus, this dude was literally so tall. I’m 175 cm., and he’s probably around 200 cm. I thought I was a decent height. And he’s pretty skinny too.

“I didn’t commit a crime, though! I don’t deserve to be here!” A gross-looking, unhygienic boy said, folding his arms. He had long, messy bangs that covered his eyes, and hair that was thin, greasy, and an odd creamy brown color. He was snarling towards the tall man, and although he was displeasing to look at, his voice was the only pleasing thing about him. It was strangely calm to listen to, even though he was speaking negatively.

“We need to work together if we all want to survive. We all know about these games. We know the consequences of things go wrong. I don’t want that to happen,” The tall man appeared perplexed, even though he spoke with an air of confidence.

The greasy boy scoffed and turned away. In his place, the girl with the purple bun who held my hand spoke up.

“Perhaps we should retire to our rooms,” She suggested, shrugging her shoulders. It was apparent she was trying to remain calm, as the rest of us were, but she was less successful at hiding it. “We’ll get to know one another soon. I’m in favor of listening to what he has to say,” She said, pointing to the tall man. He smiled charmingly towards the girl, and she acknowledged it with a nod.

The group collectively groaned, in what I could only assume was agreement, and some people slowly started to leave, conspicuously watching their own backs.

I could only help but agree with the tall man. If I had to be in this inescapable situation, I’d rather live out my life the best I could than run the risk of dying because someone else either willingly, or unwillingly, sacrificed their life.

I eventually left the gymnasium to be met with dead silent hallways. A cool gust hit me, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand up beneath my jacket.

Continuing down the hallway, I took turns I hadn’t before to eventually find a small sector of dormitories. Each of us had our own room, which was better living conditions than anticipated. I turned the handle to my door and it opened. I entered, closing the heavy door behind me and locking it. The dorm had a small bathroom and a small bed fit for one person. An empty desk and closet also aligned the walls, everything made of some sturdy, painted wood. The PurgePad, or whatever it was classically entitled, was laid on my desk. I picked it up, and it unlocked upon the sight of my face. All that was inside it was short profiles of every one of my peers, all sixteen of us, a map of the first floor of this Hope’s Peak, and the rules, which were fairly easy to follow, as the guard mentioned before. The ones he did not mention himself included us not being allowed to sleep outside of the dorms, the cafeteria closing at 10 p.m. every night without exception until 7 a.m. the following day, and that should a hypothetical body be discovered, an alarm will sound once three people, besides the killer, have discovered the body. I put my PurgePad--God, I hate that name--and exited my room. I figured it was time to meet new people.

Immediately after leaving I saw the girl with the purple bun leaving her room. She noticed me and faintly smiled.

“Hey,” She greeted, giving me a small wave before closing her own dorm door behind her.

“Hi,” I shyly replied. I had no idea why I was so nervous. Maybe it was the fear of the game. But she seemed so on board with coexisting. But maybe that’s a liar’s tactic to gain trust. I had no clue what to think of her, or anybody else for that matter. Surely nobody would kill now. I began to believe that everybody else likely was thinking the same thoughts as me, and was just as nervous as I was.

“Uh, I’m Taffy. I mean, that’s what everybody calls me. I’m the Ultimate Sukeban. Or, at least, I was supposed to be.”

Sukeban--those were those female gang leaders. I gave her a skeptical look. She seemed so sweet, but if she was the violent type, then I suddenly feared for my own safety.

She must have noticed my expression, because she automatically began to defend herself. “Oh, no, it’s not what you think! Yes, I’m a gang leader, but we’re not, like, bad. I’ve never killed anybody!” She gave me a nervous laugh.

“Well, Taffy,” I muttered lowly, “I’m Raiden Suzumoto, Ultimate Honor Student. Nice to meet you.” I put out my hand to shake despite my underlying fear.

Taffy shook my hand and then pulled back. “Hello, Raiden. Don’t worry about me. I’m a very peaceful person. My gang is the Persian Pinks. Have you heard of us? We’re mostly law-abiding, slightly rebellious girls who commit minor crimes in the name of womanhood. We defend women and girls from crime, abuse, and torment. Not to say we don’t help men--we certainly do--but we define ourselves through aiding women.”

The Persian Pinks were a historical group of women, forming in the late 1970s by housewives who were sick of their own torment and abuse at home. Considered a big part of the feminist movement, their members’ iconic pink, purple, or red hair sets them apart from other color gangs, as they are very visibly proud of their affiliations. The Persian Pinks were rumored to have member counts in the thousands. The gang, although that is what it is called, hardly fits the mold, as there have been no counts of homicide associated with the group.

“You’re their leader?”

Taffy nodded. “Sure am! That’s where the nickname ‘Taffy’ comes from. We all pick different shades of pink and stuff. I don’t mind being a sukeban, though. It’s pretty badass, if you ask me.”

A wave of relief washed over me. She didn’t seem to be lying.

“Ah, Raiden, I have to apologize for my actions earlier. I’m a little clingy in nature, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, if I had.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s alright. I understand why you did it. Don’t worry about it at all.”

Taffy sighed. “Thanks, Raiden. I’ll stop bothering you; I’ll let you go.”

“C’mon, Taffy. You’re fine. But I’ll let you go, too. There’s quite a bit of people I have left to meet,” I assured her, bidding her goodbye and turning away.

She seemed sweet enough. Sweet like taffy, I guess?

I continued my trek down the hallway. I turned a corner to where the classroom was where I originally woke up, only to see someone outside it, peering through the only window into the room, which was a square glass pane in the door. The person seemed to be a boy closer to my age, though he appeared to be very strong. He stood at around 180 cm., and had skin tan from the sun. His dirty blond hair was buzzed at the sides, but very curly and full on top. He must had heard my footsteps, because he turned to face me, staring with these piercing, pale green eyes. His most notable trait, though, was the existence of four fang-like teeth slightly protruding from his mouth over his bottom and top lips; two on each side.

“Hey!” I greeted him, though his completely emotionless demeanor should have turned me away.

“Yeah,” He replied, turning his attention back to the door. He wasn’t opening it or anything, just staring through it. I could see his nose twitch erratically.

“Uh,” I decided to try again, “I’m Raiden Suzumoto, Ultimate Honor Student. W-Who might you be?”

The boy paused, took a deep breath, and exhaled loudly. Then, he sharply turned his neck to me in less than an instant. It was terrifying to see firsthand.

“I am the one called Tetsuya Kinoshita, the Ultimate Hunter,” He basically growled, furrowing his thick eyebrows at me. All of his mannerisms were like those of animals. “Do you have business with me, Raiden Suzumoto, or do you just want to waste my time as I scout this school for its flaws?”

I just backed away a few feet. “N-No, nothing. I just wanted to meet you, is all. Sorry for wasting your time, Tetsuya.”

Tetsuya did not bother to reply, and began running his fingers over the door and the glass pane. His focus was back on the classroom. I shook off the unnerving effect that bothersome conversation left me with and snuck past Tetsuya, continuing down the hallway as if I didn’t just come in contact with a feral teenage boy.

Beyond Classroom 1-A, where Tetsuya was, laid Classroom 1-B. I passed by it, assuming it was empty, until I heard a loud scream from inside. Without even thinking, my legs took off without me into the room. I busted open the door, but the scene I was met with was nothing I should have gotten so worked up about.

Two girls, both younger and quite a bit shorter than myself, both around 160 cm., stood in the room. One, with long blue hair tied into a side ponytail, was sitting in a desk innocently. She saw me walk in, and it was like her brilliant blue eyes dialated upon seeing me. However, she was as expressionless as Tetsuya. She wore a long white lab coat, littered with pens in each pocket, and beneath that was a short white and sky blue dress. Her hair was adorned with a pink flower that really added to her feminine aura. She was very, very skinny, almost to the point where it seemed unhealthy.

The other girl in the room had off-white hair down to her shoulders, perhaps a little lower. She was very pale, and wore solely black clothes, including a showy camisole, studded short shorts, stockings, and knee-high platform boots. The only color on her was her vibrant red makeup, almost reminiscent of blood, coating her eyes all around like the mask of a raccoon. She saw me walk in with tired, heavy, circular eyes.

“Oh, my bad. Did I startle you?” The dark clothed girl asked me, “I was just sharing trades with Kinote here. I’ll be quieter next time.”

The blue girl, who I could only assume was named Kinote, raised an eyebrow at me. “Who are you?”

“I’m Raiden. Raiden Suzumoto. I’m the Ultimate Honor Student.”

“You look a little young,” commented the dark clothed girl.

“Yeah, he does,” Kinote mumbled in response, scanning me up and down as if she had laser vision. “I’m Kinote Utsukushi,” She added, “Ultimate Psychoanalyst.”

“Psychoanalyst?”

“I treat those suffering from mental illnesses by analyzing the conscious and subconscious elements of the human mind. It’s a tricky field; very controversial. But I’m good at it, so I don’t care.”

I nodded, “So I see. And who are you?” I questioned, pointing to the other girl.

She smirked. “Seventeen-year-old cinema extraordinaire, Sayoko Saito, Ultimate Director. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

I didn’t recognize her, but the name Sayoko Saito was a household one. She was well-known for being one of the most prominent female movie directors universally, and also due to her successes in the box office. She’s dished out every type of movie: action, comedy, thriller, musical, animated, romance. Every single one has been a classic from its engenderment.

“I-I surely have!” I was near giggling like a fanboy. Though I did not gloat about being a huge movie fan, I could tell a good film when I saw one. Sayoko’s films were the perfect example. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re actually in the same class as me!”

Sayoko rolled her eyes. “Alright, big boy. You best keep moving. I’m showing Kinote how I came up with that iconic last scene in my first film, _Midnight Cliff_. It’s the scene when Detective Howler actually goes to the Midnight Cliff overlooking the beach and its crashing waves below. With him, he’s carrying a big duffle bag. He’s at the cliff to meet with his girlfriend, the beautiful bombshell Lindsay, who thinks he’s going to propose to her. The moon is full in the sky, and the stars are shining. Lindsay turns around and sees the bag. She starts to shake, and asks Detective Howler what’s inside. He unzips it to reveal the body of her brother, who had gone missing weeks before. He was assigned his case, when in actuality, Howler had kidnapped him the whole time in order to keep Lindsay completely focused on him! Then, Lindsay screamed, hence how you heard me, Raiden, and tries to run away. But the full moon transforms Howler into a ferocious beast, half wolf, half man, and he devours Lindsay, the corpse of her brother, and eventually launches himself off Midnight Cliff, dying upon being impaled by the rocks below, and drowning in the surf.”

“I remember that! _Midnight Cliff_ was a weird movie, though.”

Sayoko shrugged. “Teenage girls will give me money if I show them a sexy, dangerous older man who’s also a fantasy creature. All I have to do is make it enjoyable for everyone in some aspect, and tell a lesson.”

“So, what was the lesson of _Midnight Cliff_?”

She paused for a moment, and then retorted, “I can’t freaking remember. I wrote and directed the film when I was eleven. It was probably some bullshit on respecting your elders or whatever else the industry wanted me to say. But it’s a damn good movie, and based off the Woodsman Killer, too.”

Kinote piped up,“They never caught that guy, did they?”

Sayoko shook her head. “Nope,” She said, “Killed a load of people on hiking trails and stuff, but was never found. I'd love to go into this with you at some point, Kinote.”

“Same! I’ve done plenty of research. I don’t have my files with me but I remember a majority of what was written down!”

It seemed as if I was forgotten, so I quietly left the girls alone and slinked out of Classroom 1-B, closing the door softly behind me. I could hear cheerful giggling through the door, still, but I didn’t worry or care too much anymore.

I ended up suddenly bumping into someone on my way out. “Ah!” I exclaimed in surprise, “Excuse me, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking watch yourself.”

It was the gross-looking boy from before who spoke back to the tall man.

He was worse up close. He had awful acne and a few scraggly hairs protruding from his neck and chin. Most excruciatingly of all, he reeked _terribly_.

He was just shy of my height but he was definitely heavyset. Easily, he could weigh almost 10 kg. more than me. 

“Jeez, alright, relax, okay? No need to be on edge,” I sighed, putting my palms up in surrender.

“There’s a goddamn need, alright?! I’m gonna be killed if I don’t push my way through punks like you! Fucking move your ass, bitch!”

Every time he spoke, his horrendous breath hit me like a wave of rotten seafood.

“It’s not ‘bitch’, alright? My name’s Raiden. Use it.” If this kid was gonna play rude, then so was I.

“Okay, smartass! Try this on, then. My name’s Kage Ayukawa, and if you don’t take note of that, I’m gonna beat you up!”

Kage grabbed my collar, yanking me to my tip toes. I cowered back naturally, worrisome he was going to punch me or something. Instead, Kage flung me onto my back. I hit the ground, hearing something crack and probably bruise. I let out an “oof!” and shut my eyes tightly. 

“Don’t make me do that again, coward.”

He stormed off, but not before launching spit in my direction.

Despite the assault, I could not shake how lovely Kage’s voice was, even when he was insulting me. It was so odd.

I spent another while--God knows how long--moaning and groaning on the floor. It wasn’t until I heard soft footsteps approach me, and a high pitched voice humming to itself.

“Oh, my. Are you okay, mister?”

I peeked through my squinted eyes. Crouched down to my level was a modestly dressed girl about my age. She held a pale, manicured hand out towards me. I took it, having no other option than to continue moping on the dirty hallway floor. She aided me up, and began to look me up and down for a few long moments before awkwardly letting go of my hand.

“I-I’m sorry for that!” She giggled. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink that near matched the color of the highlights in her hair.

Seems like quite a few of the girls here tended to be naturally flirty and cute, even if they don’t mean to be. It’s, admittedly, adorable as hell.

This girl was only a little shorter than myself, and was fairly petite. Her hair was long and light brown, reaching her waist, save for frequent pink highlights. The side was tied back with a small braid leading into a tiny ponytail off the top of her head, but it was barely noticeable. Her eyes were a magical shade of golden, like the ore itself. Her lips were ghostly and thin, but curved into an inviting smile. She wore lots of gold to match her eyes--her earrings, rings, and bracelets were gold, too. Her outfit was, however, the least interesting thing about her, being a common brown color. She wore an old-fashioned school uniform, with a very long skirt reaching below her knees. Her blazer was thick and conservative, with a big red bow flaunting its tip.

She looked like some off-brand, semi-rebellious Girl Scout.

“I’m a little clumsy in nature. Sorry again, mister,” She apologized, her words overly sweet, like they were dripping with honey, “My name’s Kamiji. I’m, uh, well, it’s kinda embarrassing, but I’m the Ultimate Luck. The one kid who got in due to that nationwide lottery. That’s me.” She pointed her thumbs to herself sarcastically, like she was ashamed of the fact. “No point in lying about it if everyone can see it via the PurgePads, or whatever their horrible name is.”

“That’s what I was saying! It’s a tasteless name! Like, just call it a tablet at that point, am I right?” I started laughing at my own statement. It took me a while to realize that was the first time I laughed in that school. Or laughed in a long while, really.

Kamiji chuckled alongside me, but was staring at me expectantly.

“Oh, right,” I cleared my throat and flashed her the best smile I could manage at the moment, “I’m Ultimate Honor Student, Raiden Suzumoto. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Luck.”

“Oh, man. I don’t know how I feel about that being my nickname!” Kamiji seemed to get embarrassed easily. She seemed so cheerfully oblivious to everything; at least everyone else had this impending sense of doom or fear in their tone or mannerisms. Kamiji didn’t, though. It was as if she trusted me automatically. I was flattered, truly, but it was a foolish way to go about things here, especially with jerks like Kage roaming the halls. I don’t know what he’d treat someone such as Kamiji like.

“I won’t keep it if you don’t like it. I’m alright with just calling you Kamiji. It’s a nice name. Rolls right off the tongue.”

Oh my God. I was sweating.

She just snickered to herself. “I don’t mind too much either way. As long as I can call you Rai for short, you can call me whatever you’d like! Miss Luck, Lady Luck, Jiji, Kami--anything. As long as it’s nice!” She pouted playfully.

“I’ll be sure to do that, then.”

The two of us stood in silence for what felt like ages, but was likely just a second or two. I was about to form the words to bid her goodbye when we were intruded upon by a boy, just a bit taller than myself, who seemed very well-built. He had a faded, frightening scar grazed upon his cheek to his defined jawline. I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t strikingly attractive, especially at a first glance.

He seemed to be mixed race. His hair was blonde, and I think it was somewhat naturally so. His eyes were emerald green. He looked like a model.

In his short hair was a pair of goggle-looking glasses. There were no frames, just plastic, most likely. They were tucked behind his ears.

He looked right at me. I felt a shiver run down my spine. “You, ma’am,” He addressed Kamiji, his voice lacking everything but sternness and formality, “Are you alright?” He directed his attention towards the girl in front of me. “Are you in any present danger?”

Kamiji shook her head. “No, I’m alright. Thank you, though, Mao. This is Raiden, we’re just talking.”

As if he was commanded to, this boy--Mao, I presumed--scanned me once more. “Alright. Holler if you need me.”

Then, without another word, Mao walked away speedily.

“W-Who the hell is that?!” I sputtered, a mix of shocked and flustered coating my tone.

Kamiji watched the attractive boy walk away.

“His name is Mao Burke. I met him because he insisted on escorting me to my dorm from the gymnasium after the meeting. Said that a pretty face shouldn’t go alone in this dangerous scenario. I don’t think he was flirting, I think he was just trying to be chivalrous. But I suppose he finds other men a threat to us women,” she sighed, “How old fashioned of him. But it’s a little sweet, in its own respect. At least, in my opinion it is.”

“What’s his talent?” I asked.

Kamiji hesitated. Perhaps her being entitled the “Ultimate Luck” made her a little bitter about the value of talent in Hope’s Peak Academy. “He’s the Ultimate Mercenary,” She replied, “He’s served overseas and whatnot. Basically a born and raised military geek, or so I can assume from literally everything about him. Poor kid’s only seventeen years old. I can’t imagine what goes through his head.”

Mao eventually disappeared down the corridor. I took a deep breath, and faced Kamiji once more.

“I’m gonna keep looking around this place. You watch your back, alright? We don’t need Mao to play the hero for you, especially since I think you can hold your own.”

Kamiji was backhandedly flattered by that. She gave me a polite curtsy and spun off down the direction where Mao had gone in.

Beyond the hallway with the classrooms was the cafeteria and subsequently the attached kitchen. The doors were wide open, so naturally I felt welcomed in and entered the vast room.

“Do you not think I deserve better than this?! I am pretty sure we all expected this to happen somehow, miraculously, to us, so do not play coy with me!”

“Yo! C’mon, li’l man! It’s cool!”

“Do not call me that, wench!”

The rude, foreign boy with the accent was screaming about something to somebody who was inside the kitchen. The boy, with his princely garb, folded his arms and pivoted the other direction, huffing like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

From the kitchen, someone yelled excitedly, and then proceeded to kick the swinging kitchen door out of the way. A tall girl, probably around 180 cm., ran from the kitchen with her arms full of random foods; mostly fruits. Some apples fell from her grasp onto the floor, but she was giggling the whole way through.

“My _dearest_ duke, surely you’ve had commoner food before!”

The white-haired boy did not turn around to face the tall, athletic-bodied girl. He spoke without moving his body or changing his expression.

“I have! Fruits and vegetables are the most basic of foods, so do not underestimate me. I am only saying I wish for those in charge to procure me some higher quality meals, else my stomach grow queasy.”

The athletic girl spotted me standing in the entrance. “Hey! Come in, bro!”

I followed her directions. Upon closer inspection, I could tell this girl was a little older. She had frizzy hair tied back into two buns atop her head, like a bear’s ears. Her skin was a natural tan, and she had these thick-rimmed, circular sunglasses that tinted her eyes out of existence. A yellow headband adorned her forehead.

The boy was wearing something of nice origin. It was a colorful mix of white, yellow, blue, red, and purple hues. He had a beauty mark below his left eye, which was a deep, oceanic aquatic color. His eyelashes were also very gorgeous, like he was wearing makeup; perhaps a bit of foundation and mascara.

“Hello there!” I greeted the both of them, but mostly the girl. It had yet to strike me how odd the typically positive atmosphere was in this school, despite its coup. Again, perhaps we expected it. Perhaps we already planned to coexist peacefully, together.

“Oh, wow! You smell great! Is that cologne?” The girl started smelling me, getting really into my personal space. More food fell from her arms.

I nervously, but as kindly as possible, swatted her away. “Yeah, just a bit,” I coughed out, “I’m Raiden Suzum-”

“Raiden Suzumoto, Ultimate Honor Student! I did a little bit of research before; I know everybody here. You’re chill, man, that’s why I invited you over!” She held out her right hand. “I’m Mizuki Hagakure, the Ultimate Volleyball Player. Nice to meetcha, Raiden!”

I shook her hand, and then quietly motioned to the childish boy who was blatantly ignoring the both of us.

“That’s...now, what’s the proper terminology? Your Grace, the Duke of Eriwall, Duke Hollis Cromwell.”

That name just oozes a feeling I do not like.

“Ah, so he’s not from here?”

“Real observant of you, pet!” Hollis scowled, craning his head towards me. He was grimacing wildly. “I am not from here, correct! What, do you ache for a medallion for recognizing that?!”

It’s like he got his personality from angsty anime characters.

“No thanks, man-”

“Straighten up your language! That is no proper way to address a duke!”

I gave Mizuki this look that I cannot convey through words. It was a series of emotions in one face. I’m sure it can be willed to life if the imagination tries hard enough.

“Feel free to scamper off. But they’ve got endless food here, if you ever wanna snack together. Hit me up, ‘kay, Raiden? I’d really like to get to know you better,” Mizuki cheerfully beamed.

I decided to forget about the cologne incident, and flashed her a thumbs-up before ignoring Hollis and exiting the cafeteria.

Somewhat across from the cafeteria was the greenhouse. It was bright inside, so I figured--why not go in?

I pulled the heavy metal and glass doors open and got hit with a wave of hot air. I audibly whistled in surprise.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I could hear audible whispering from inside. The greenhouse was warm, pretty enough, and very, very green. Its name holds up well.

“No, I, like, see where you’re coming from. I get it.”

“You do? Thank God, amazing. I’ve gotten through nearly everyone by now. I’m very glad I came across you.”

The first voice laughed this obnoxious laugh, and then said, “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna try and see if these dumb things can take pictures. I’d really like some snapshots of this place to put on my VSCO or ‘gram, y’know, once I get some internet around here.”

I didn’t know these types existed in real life.

I heard the voices chattering from my left, and bravely (or stupidly) headed that way. Over the tops of the tropical bushes and trees, I saw the dark blue hair of the very tall man who was addressing everyone together at the gymnasium earlier.

“Oi!” I held up my hand and ran over to him. The giant looked towards me with soft eyes. Beside him was another boy, a bit taller than myself, with pale skin, prevalent freckles, and curly red hair. He was fidgeting with his PurgePad and paying little mind to me.

“Oh, Raiden, just the man I was looking for. Or, perhaps I should say ‘boy’? You are the youngest of us all, anyway.”

The man’s height was intimidating, even if his words were purely innocent.

“I-It doesn’t matter to me,” I peeped out like a shy kid. Maybe I was just a boy.

“Alright, alright. Well, I’m Osamu Hitoshi. I’m a lawyer--er, the Ultimate Lawyer, at that. And yes, I’m 201 cm., in case you were wondering. I know you were.”

Admittedly, I nodded to that statement, like a guilty dog showing its owner a torn up, expensive shoe.

“No fear, my little honor student! I’m going around talking to everyone individually. I’m trying to get everyone on board with my plan, and to ease possible tensions or fears. I just finished convincing Jin over here to join my plan.”

The redhead--Jin, I guess--flashed me a peace sign without looking up from the PurgePad. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me, if not recognize me. I’m kinda a big deal around here. See, I was born in Hollywood, California to an A-list mo-”

“That’s enough for now, Jin. You can leave or stay, it’s up to you. I’m just gonna go over exactly what I told you to our friend Raiden here.”

“I’m staying,” Jin whined, “Make sure he knows who I am, though. I’ll be severely disappointed if anyone here doesn’t know who I am.”

Jin absently left myself and Osamu in one sector of the greenhouse as he trekked off to another, muttering profanities at his PurgePad.

“Apologies, for how he acts. He’s a bit spoiled. That’s child actor Jin Fukuda. Or, rather, _former_ child actor. He’s clearly a teenager now, but he hit his peak as a kid. He’s trying to find work as an adult, but...no, that’s his story to get into, not mine,” Osamu shook his head dismissively.

“It’s fine, I swear,” I replied.

“Well, regardless, I’m sure you’ve noticed an upbeat culture forming here. I’m trying to make sure everyone stays on the same, joyful page here. I know I’m not the only one who has run the hypotheticals of ‘what would I do if I was in a killing game’, especially after being invited to this school. However, Raiden, know that I fully intend to not kill, and do my best to make sure nobody else does either. I think just pushing through and being mature, moral teenagers is the best option, don’t you agree?”

Osamu sure was charming. I guess that’s what makes a convincing lawyer. I just nodded in reply. 

“Very well. This should be easier to articulate, then. I know some people are secretly thinking that they’ll commit the perfect murder and get out, but I reccomend bonding with their classmates while they can. Perhaps it’s self-manipulation, but if you grow genuinely attached, I don’t think people will be more likely to kill. I’m no psychologist, but that just makes basic sense to me. It’s unlikely we have a stone cold sociopath in our midst, and even if we did, I doubt they’re beyond salvation. We’re still young and fallible creatures.”

“No, I get it,” I choked out, “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll, uh, try to keep being a positive influence, then. I think I’ve met most people so far, but…”

Osamu placed a hand on my shoulder and winked at me. “Don’t worry about it. I just passed by someone leaving his room for the first time today right before I ran into Jin. You might be able to catch him if you head down the hall. He said he was headed to the library, if I remember correctly.”

“Alright, will do. Thanks for your help, Osamu.”

“No problem, Raiden,” He said, squeezing my shoulder. _That_ felt flirty. “I’ll be around if you’ve got questions. I’ll be enforcing this coexisting policy soon, so as long as you agree with me, like you said you did, there’ll be nothing to fret over.”

Osamu traced his fingertips against my jaw before dropping his hand entirely and shuffling past me confidently. Meeting the people here oddly gave me this strange boost to my ego.

I left the greenhouse, and headed towards the library, as instructed. Hopefully this would be someone I had yet to meet.

No voices could be heard through the doors to the library. However, it was probably more likely some form of soundproofing had to do with that. People like their libraries quiet, after all.

I peeked in and saw nobody. Regardless, I decided to check anyway, and took a few steps further in as the door closed by itself behind me.

The library was wall-to-wall, stories high with novels and textbooks of every kind. It was a colorful, old, neat mess of sorts. Cobwebs tainted some of the higher shelves. This place sure looked ancient for being so young of a building.

I walked over to one of the shelves, running my hand along the rows and rows of spines exposed to me, encasing pages with millions of words, telling a new tale every time. Subconsciously, I began to chuckle at my thoughts.

“Stranger!”

I straightened out, my back tensing up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

“Y-Yes?” I replied, slowly turning around, my arms at the ready to defend myself as best as I could.

A short, ashen boy with fluffy, purple hair that covered his right eye was pointing towards me, eyes squinted. He wore a white, peacoat-looking jacket, draped in purple, and had chains and a belt bearing a cross. From his neck hung an even bigger cross, gold and gleamingly shiny. At his side stood a chubby girl the same height as hin, dark skinned with coiled, pink hair tied back into a low ponytail. She had big, green eyes, like leaves of spring. She wore a white apron over this gaudy floral blouse; something reminiscent of a grandmother’s secondhand clothes.

“I see you have not yet been possessed! This school may be haunted and our situation has turned dire, but I plan to stop that! Tell me, and pray, stranger, speak truth, have you noticed any activity here that one may consider,” The boy paused, “demonic?!”

This was an eccentric surprise and a half. The girl just seemed to stay quiet, and while she was lunged forward in some sort of action pose, she seemed to be stifling a laugh, as I was, as well.

Let’s just play along.

“No, I don’t believe so,” I scratched at my chin, pondering intensely, “I’ve seen head-to-toe of this floor by now. But the people, some of them are strange.”

The boy starting nodding rapidly. “Yes, yes! You notice it, too! I tried to listen to darn Osamu’s orders but he’s so boring when he talks! Like, I’ll behave, but not because of you! Because I have to. See, stranger, I’m the special type. Don’t try to understand it, it’s too hard to explain to mere mortals. Just consider me good and we’ll be good. It’s not hubris if it’s true!”

The girl broke into a laughing fit and began snorting cutely. The boy glared at her, clearly upset with her laughing at him, but she ignored that and approached me, a wide grin upon her face.

“Hey there. Name’s Akemi Hattori. I’m a botanist. He’s Kei Fujimura, Ultimate Exorcist.”

“Nice to meet you two. I’m Raiden Suzumoto, honor student extraordinaire.”

“Yeah, I’m an exorcist. Wanna know how?” Kei pushed past Akemi and stood basically on my toes, staring up at me. “See my right eye? That’s right, you don’t. I can see demons with it. Pretty cool, if you ask me. God blessed me with these powers, y’know? I’m grateful for that. I can do His bidding here on earth: banishing demons and exorcising places and people. I am _walking_ purity, _Raiden_.”

He said my name so bitterly I almost winced at its taste.

Akemi was certainly interested in Kei’s storytime. She was listening quite intently. 

I shook my head awkwardly, not exactly sure how to follow through with this conversation. Kei was on a completely different plane than I was. I couldn’t fathom it.

Kei gasped. “He’s stunned. Have I unlocked another secret portion of my craft? Not witchcraft, of course, but the works of God?!”

I shook my head. “No, Kei, I’m fine.”

He was too tiresome to be around for too long. It felt like babysitting without pay, and to think this kid’s probably older than me.

Akemi jerked her head towards the library door. “Feel free to leave unless you’d like to participate. Kei and I are going through old books to see what we can salvage of prophecies foretelling his arrival. Well, Kei’s arrival here on earth. He’s basically the chosen one.”

I wanted to believe Akemi was just playing dumb, but now I have no clue.

“I’m good, but thanks for the offer. I’ll be on my way.”

“Watch out for demons, Raiden. The devil comes in many forms.”

I didn’t take Kei’s warning to heart and left the library without a second thought. 

Further down the hall was something that looked like a large elevator, or shaft. It had no buttons on the side, though, or any visible means to open or unlock it. More importantly, somebody was standing in front of it.

A tall, broad shouldered girl with her hands on her hips was staring at the door intensely. Her back was towards me, but I could make out her tan skin, dark brown hair shaved into a messy mohawk, and piercings aplenty adorning her ears. She wore all black; a black leather jacket, dressy black plants, tall boots (black), and a collar, hopefully for fashion’s sake.

She must’ve heard me walking towards her. She slowly turned around, and greeted me with blinding red eyes. But I’d be lying if I said she didn’t look good with them.

The girl had some face tattoos, mostly little doodles around her ears and jaw, but most notably she had that classic teardrop below the eye.

_Fantastic_.

“Howdy,” She said, eyeing me up suspicuously.

“Good morning, or afternoon. Or whatever,” I managed, feeling stupider after those words left my mouth.

“No problem, don’t worry about it, man. Just trying to figure out what this thing is here.”

She pointed to the door.

I cleared my throat. “I think it’s to an elevator. Well, it looks like one. I can’t imagine what else it would be.”

“That’s a dumb idea,” She groaned, “We’ve already got stairs closed off. There’s more fuckin’ floors to this place. I can’t get through them. God knows who can. You wouldn’t happen to have any lock picking skills, would ya?”

“Uh, no, sorry. I’m actually the Ultimate H-“

“If you can’t help me then I’m gonna fuck right off. Nothing against you, per say, I just don’t like wasting time. Catch me when I’m not in the mood to commit homicide, okay short stack?”

We were the same height, but okay.

She shouldered me out of the way and stormed down the hall, hands in her pockets. I despondently sighed, figuring there was little left to explore. I thought I met everybody. Almost everybody.

In hindsight, I’m glad I met him last. Usually it’s saving the best for last, but I was just lucky this guy challenged the norm.

Near the elevator was the A/V Room, one of the last places on the first floor for me to visit. This place was also either empty, or soundproofed, but I would just immediately learn it was soundproofed, because opening the door cursed me with the sounds of some crap I couldn’t understand in iambic pentameter.

Whoever was watching the video that was playing was speaking alongside the actor, saying his words exactly. I must’ve caught him halfway through his monologue.

“Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. / With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design / Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, / Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear / Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, / And take the present horror from the time, / Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives: / Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.”

The reader paused for a moment, and in the movie a bell tolled.

“I go,” The reader continued, “and it is done; the bell invites me. / Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell / That summons thee to heaven or to hell.”

The reader, who had a deeper voice, turned off the projector that displayed the movie. He stared at the blank screen, sighing.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna applaud me?”

His attitude appalled me, but I hesitatingly clapped anyway. Sure, let’s indulge him.

“Thank you, friend. It’s a bit rude to start watching a performance halfway through, but I’ll make an exception since you look like you’ve never been to a play in your life.”

“A-Actually,” I started to defend myself, “I’m Raiden. Raiden Suzumoto. I’m the Ultimate Honor Student. I’ve read lots of plays. Studied them. All kinds.”

“Really?” The boy turned around. This was no boy. This was a full grown man.

I’d later learn from the PurgePad that this guy was only nineteen. But he looked older. He had minor facial hair and a load of piercings; more than that rude girl did (who I would also later learn was named Mahiro Jinno, Ultimate Vigilante). Like piercings up the wazoo. His hair was dyed dark blue, and it reached a little below his chin. His bangs were so long they covered his left eye like one of those scene kids. He wore a black, sleeveless jacket, ripped jeans, and this weird blue t-shirt with eyes on it and bright, colorful lights, like a fair. It seemed like abstract art, maybe, but I wasn’t sure.

His most interesting aspect, however, was his familiar eyes. They were gilded and welcoming, like crisp honey. They contrasted his silver piercings with their own metallic glow. Why they were so familiar I had no idea, because he was not welcoming to approach in the slightest.

“Yeah,” I replied, trying to recall my shaky memory of international theatrical literature, “I know tons of plays. From all the greats.”

For an honor student, I sure felt like I didn’t know much. I suppose I couldn’t really challenge someone in their field particularly. But overall I was pretty slick.

“Can you name any of William Shakespeare’s works? Y’know, just the most revolutionary playwright of all time? Not the best, of course, that title’s subjectively saved for Tennessee Williams, in my opinion. ‘Get off at Elysian Fields’, am I right?”

This guy was annoying.

“Yes, I can. I can name tons of his works. I’m an honor student, don’t you know. Or can you not remember?”

It was like his arrogance was rubbing off on me. I shifted my weight and started to name off all the plays I could.

“There’s _Romeo and Juliet_ , a classic. _Hamlet_ , classic. _Macbeth_ , my favorite, classic. _Taming of the Shrew_ , amazing. _Much Ado About Nothing_ , classic.”

“You know any more?”

“Uh, I don’t know, do you?!”

The man just laughed to himself. “Whatever, Rai. Rai, can I call you that? I’m Axel. I mean, that’s clearly not my real name, but it’s so much fucking cooler than,” He dripped his voice to a mocking tone, “Masako Fujita.”

“Alright, Axel it is, then.”

“I’m the Ultimate Bard. They wanted to make me the poet, but bard sounds so much more rad that I couldn’t stop myself from making that request. I specialize in sonnets anyway, so it’s no harm done. Think Shakespeare meets Dickinson meets Poe meets Munefusa. Undeniably, I’m pretty goddamn great.”

I want to blame some ultimates for being cocky about their talents, but they’re clearly here for a reason.

“I believe you, Axel, I believe you. I-I’ll leave, too, so I’m not in your way. Keep on quoting your, uh, movie. Was that _Hamlet_ ? It sounded like _Hamlet_ . You look like the _Hamlet_ type.”

“Sure, sure. It was _Hamlet_.”

I don’t think he was serious, but I gave up trying to outdo him.

Axel began to spout nonsense again, so I left the A/V Room feeling simultaneously more and less educated.

And that was the lot of them. All fifteen of my peers trapped in the same building, orders to kill, but selectively deciding against it. All that was left was for us to follow through with not only Osamu’s plans but our own collective morals, making sure the peace is kept and the guards and their boss don’t win.

I couldn’t fathom who would do this or why. I went back to my dorm, locking the door behind me, and sat down on my bed, hands entangled in my hair. This was stressful. All I could do was what laid in my power: be civil, be kind, be morally upright. If I just followed that, surely everything would be okay for me, right? If I enforced that kindness, surely everyone will coexist peacefully, right? It’s possible for us to all make friends, despite our differences, right? Nobody will die. I couldn’t let anybody be killed.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> i hated danganronpa 3 and enjoyed (most of) v3 but v3’s ending is utter garbage so we don’t acknowledge that here.  
> to be fair dr3’s ending also sucked and i guess thats why i made this.  
> why, naegi. why would you rebuild the school. dummy


End file.
